We r on the wheels
one is okay
one is torned
one is under
one is over
How to move on?
How much clever we r?
She sold
all her gold
She bought
Something stupid to hold
Colorful ribbons r flowing down her hairs
Inside her itches her own ashes
light and cold
He put some new strings on
And doubts his own moods
No hype in his dreams
Fridge is full of rotten foods
He is broke
The last stroke
Is distorted and taken
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